My Skin
by SleepySherlock
Summary: Just a little drabblesongficthingie. Gene Roe has an empty space in his heart, and he believes the night sky can fill that. Boy, is he wrong. Kinda-sorta-not-really slash.


**Okay, disclaimers...**

**I don't own the song, or the characters. Nor am I making any profit off of this. This is a work of fiction based on the characters, not the actual people. The song is 'My Skin', by Natalie Merchant. The italics are the lyrics to the song.**

**Enjoy!**

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_'Take a look at my body, look at my hands. There's so much here that I don't understand.'_

His hands are covered, stained with blood. 'But for what?' The persistent voice in his head cries. Trying to save these men, becomes more and more of an enigma each night, when all was quiet, and those who were still awake thought of little else than the harsh world that they were living in. When he treats a soldier, and he returns to fight on the line, hasn't he just condemned another man just across the snowy line. Who knows what these men could've shared if things had been under different circumstances.

But they're not.

It's too much to think about, too much to comprehend. The Cajun's vision blurs with hot tears. As he looks at the thin, stained and chapped hands. Wicked hands, he decides. His memory flashes back to Renèe, "God would never give such a painful thing." He had quietly doubted her words then, but now, the ugly truth that hid within them, was staring him in the face.

The bitter frost of the forest wraps it's icy fingers around the medic in his foxhole. He suddenly wishes for someone, anyone, anything to be next to him and share something that felt like warmth. It became apparent now, that he was slowly becoming untouchable. The feeling of need was replaced with anger. Anger at the world, anger at the people who started this. Anger at anything. The tears of confusion and sadness were replaced with ones of hate.

_'Contempt loves the silence. It thrives in the dark. With fine winding tendrils, that strangle the heart.'_

But what have I got to be really angry about? I'm alive, breathing, and nothing is falling off. That's more than most can say. Through the tears, emotion swirl around the poor Doc, who begins to fold up on himself, a feeling of loneliness filling the spot that anger had just occupied. Hs heart aches with... Something. A longing, a need to be held and comforted. A need for something to always be there. The true feelings finally brake through the pale, steely exterior of Eugene Roe. He sniffles, and hiccups, and raises his eyes upwards. Clutching the still-traitorous hands against his chest.

Dark eyes meet dark sky, and when the pools of endless line up, it's like saying hello to an old friend, and for a moment, all the sadness is forgotten, and the face of the medic is calm and still. Here, right here, looming above his head was this great, massive constant, that provided many a lonely man with some hope that there was indeed something in this world that no enemy could ever take away.

_'Oh, I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness. Oh, I need this'_

Eugene Roe sat for another moment, face turned upwards, eyes closed, relished the sweet darkness that stemmed the flow of his tears. And for thst quiet moment, all was good. The missing thing had been found. It seemed childish to the Doc now that he had been reduced to nothing but a pile of existential, Cajun tears over something... So... Small. All comfort was here, in the clouds.

Or so he thought.

The longer he sat, the colder became. And the realization slowly came upon him, that the night sky was nothing to put comfort in. Even though moments ago, this was 'something so small'. It came back to loom in front of the huddled man, in full force. The feeling of longing returned.

_'I need, a lullaby. A kiss goodnight, Angel sweet, love of my life, Oh, I need this...I'm a slow dying flower, frost killing hour, the sweet turning sour and untouchable.'_

And his heart began to ache once again, and continued through the night, untill the familiar sound of boots-on-snow stooped just behind his head. And his watery eyes were met with caring blue, as none other than Babe Heffron, slid in beside him, and upon seeing the Doc's puffy eyes, and shaking figure, immediatley took the medic in his arms and without hesitation, began to say calming things. And the other continued to weep silently into his chest, not caring what was being thought.

_'Do you remember the way that you touched me before, all the trembling sweetness I loved and adored? Your face saving promises, whispered like prayers, I don't need them_

_No, I don't need them.'_

... Oh, but he did. It was here in the other soldier's arms did everything click with finality. Everything was accounted for, warmth, comfort, and even more thn that, something to keep fighting for in this terrible war,

_'... Oh, I need this.'_

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**Alrighty, where the HELL did that come from? I guess my mind was in overdrive from poetic required reading and too much Band of Brothers, because I usually don't write things this way. *v*.. Ah, well. I hope you enjoyed. And please remember to leave a review and tell me how it was, even if ya hated it, just tell me why. ( And if you do, you get a free piece of Internet Chocolat. Pour vous. *v* -shottdead-) Thanks for reading, though!**


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